


Imagine Me And You

by hollycrowned



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Dissociation, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Heteronormativity, Homophobic Language, Implied Cannibalism, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, Mentions Of Infidelity, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexist Language, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycrowned/pseuds/hollycrowned
Summary: Movement to his left snapped him out of his thoughts—the flutter of a program, or some other restless fidgeting—he turned, and suddenly Will was staring into the eyes of a man he had never seen before. He stood near the wall at the other end of the nave, watching Will with an unreadable expression, and Will stared back with the intense attempt to discern the nature of that attention—he found himself arrested when the man looked back the same. The hair on the back of Will’s neck prickled, and a shiver ran up the base of his spine to the back of his skull, and down again.Applause rose around him. Will was clapping before he was consciously realized he had lifted his hands. He glanced at the altar: the husband and wife were sharing a kiss. When Will looked back, the man was gone.





	Imagine Me And You

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill: for majorenglishesquire, who requested "Imagine Me & You (2005) Will/Hannibal AU but Hannibal is caterer and Will is either the one getting married or has come to the wedding with a date/plus-one." this fill is loosely based on the film, as I tried to keep everyone fairly in-character. it was fun to take this sort of romantic comedy—that treats serendipity as a kind of magic and believes whole-heartedly in love—and tailor it to Hannibal, which has magic and Romance and deeply complicated love of its own.
> 
> I decided to write Molly and her relationship with Will closer to how they are in Red Dragon, mostly because of how their lives are ordered in this AU. plus I just enjoy the dialogue they share in the book. They live in Marathon, because I’ve never been even remotely near Maine.
> 
> unbeta'd. please read the warnings before proceeding! details on the content warnings are at the notes at the end, if you feel you’d like to know more before diving in.
> 
> you can send me prompts on tumblr (hollycrowned), but please read the rules; you can find a link to the rules post on my about page (check under 'Projects'). you can also find me on twitter (holly_crowned). kudos are much appreciated and I love comments! thanks for reading <3

“The best food you’ll ever eat,” the groom was saying when Will tuned back in to the conversation. “Our caterer is a friend of mine and the best chef on the Eastern Seaboard. Custom dinner menu, full oyster bar for the reception, the wine selection—it’s all absolutely delicious. And the cakes too. Handmade sweet _darioles_ , hundreds of them.” He said _darioles_ with linguistic accuracy, but in the tone of an American peacocking.

“You spared no expense,” said Will. It had the desired effect: the groom preened. Will mentally gave himself a little checkmark. _Passed._

“Only the best for my woman. You’ll be in the same place soon, Graham. Take notes.”

Another guest interjected, and Will let his attention wander again. It was late afternoon, and the heart of Georgetown was humid and bustling. Pedestrians skirted the wedding party that had overflowed from the cathedral onto the sidewalk. Will polished his glasses and replaced them, angling them carefully. It had been almost three years since he had last been in D.C., and he was just as eager to leave now as he had been when he’d moved out of Foggy Bottom and quit forensics for good.

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the bride and her party, and the wedding planner ushering everyone inside.

Will stepped out of the river of guests and planted himself near the back, looking for Molly among the new arrivals. Molly knew the bride from high school and she had attended Molly’s first wedding, in college—as Molly had explained when she showed him the invitation. Will had offered to stay behind, to look after the dogs and spend time with Walter. To give Molly the chance to catch up with friends and take time away from work. He was bad with crowds, he’d said. Bad with noise. It would be a lot of strangers, he’d be awkward. There’d be a lot of people and he wasn’t good with a lot of people.

She’d taken his arm and told him that he could never disappoint her. The wedding would only be one night, and after that why don’t they spend some time together, take a vacation? Let Wally spend some time with his grandparents in Oregon? In the end, he agreed. Better to say yes and face the one hard evening than to sour the ease they had cultured in her house. Their own wedding was planned for later in the year.

It wasn’t long before he spotted Molly, clearly searching for him too as she was jostled by the other attendees ambling toward the seating area. She spun around when he put a hand on her shoulder, and her expression brightened instantly. He felt it like morning sunlight through fog.

“There you are, handsome. How’re you getting on?”

“I should ask you that.” He removed his glasses and tucked them away. They walked together to claim seats.

“Oh, alright. Bride looks stunning, lots of tears. Cassie’s daughter nearly spilled a cup of juice on her dress and there was a last-minute fuss from the mother over whether or not the bouquet looked cheap.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“My thoughts exactly. So how are you? Making out okay?”

Will wanted, for the hundredth time that day, to take her hand and take her home, where it was easy to be easy along with her.

“I’m just as well,” he said, sitting down with her. “Met the groom. He promised the food’ll be good.”

“God I hope so.”

“Some people asked after you. I told them you’d catch up at the reception.”

“Aw. Thanks. Sorry you had to hang out on your own.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, voice low. It made her look at him. “I’m looking forward to the next few weeks of just you and me.”

She smiled again, and patted his cheek. “Sweet man,” she said.

The organist began to play. Will tried to focus on the ceremony rather than his own dread of the reception. The interior of the cathedral was fragrant and warm from the packed bodies. He tracked the Stations of the Cross in the windows above. Family members dabbed their eyes. At the front, one of the groomsmen muttered something to the groom, who cracked open an eye and smiled. 

The bride walked down the aisle, escorted by her father. She was done up gorgeously, as Molly had said, satin gown shimmering and her face shrouded by tulle, but Will was stalled by a particular glowunder her veil. She gleamed beyond the superficial confidence of being the center of the day’s attention; she was alone but for her waiting groom. Her head tilted up and her neck curved as if an invisible hand held her chin and floated her to the altar—as if her feet might lift from the ground with any step. Will’s head tilted too.

Movement to his left snapped him out of his thoughts—the flutter of a program, or some other restless fidgeting—he turned, and suddenly Will was staring into the eyes of a man he had never seen before. He stood near the wall at the other end of the nave, watching Will with an unreadable expression, and Will stared back with the intense attempt to discern the nature of that attention—he found himself arrested when the man looked back the same. The hair on the back of Will’s neck prickled, and a shiver ran up the base of his spine to the back of his skull, and down again.

Applause rose around him. Will was clapping before he was consciously realized he had lifted his hands. He glanced at the altar: the husband and wife were sharing a kiss. When Will looked back, the man was gone.

-

After the ceremony, a motorcade of luxury SUVs took them to a separate venue for the reception. A live ensemble played on a small stage at one end of the cavernous hall, and at the other, tucked a bit out of the way, was a bar laden with the oysters and wine Ian had boasted earlier. Tables dressed with fine linen cloths and stacked with crystal and china lined the room in a U-shape, leaving an section of floor open for dancing.

They found their assigned seats. Molly chatted with their tablemates while Will downed a cocktail and plate of hors d’oeuvres like a kid in Wonka’s factory, praying it would bolster him for the noisy hours that were to follow. The groom hadn’t been remotely bluffing earlier: the food was like nothing Will had ever eaten.

The newlyweds arrived and danced the first, after which a herd of other guests stampeded onto the floor. Will squared his shoulders. He turned to Molly and offered his hand.

Her look of soft surprise blended into gentle affection.

“You sure?” She had already taken it.

“‘Course I’m sure.”

“We don’t have to—if you’re tired. I mean it.”

“Miss Molly, the way I see it I had better get used to the idea of dancing at a wedding, seeing as I’ve got one of my own coming up.”

She laughed. He guided her onto the floor.

“It’s a good sign, that you’ll dance at a party as big as this,” she teased back. As they drifted among the other couples, she gazed around the reception hall. “I can say I won’t want our wedding to be this…showy.”

“Showy,” Will echoed, grinning hard. “Dear Molly, if we just went to the courthouse and got the clerk to sign off on us, I’d still insist on dancing with you.”

“One or two?”

“I think you’d have the whole night up for grabs.”

“Sounds like I’m worth it,” said Molly, in a voice so warm Will forgot the rest of the room and all the people in it. They could’ve been back home, waltzing across the tidal flats.

“Of course you are, kid.” He kissed the top of her head. “Of course you are.”

They danced another, then each took glasses of champagne back to their seats.

-

A few songs later, the mother of the bride took to the stage and announced dinner. Catering staff bustled out dishes to each table. Like the hors d’oeuvres, the food was light but delicious. Next to him, Molly hummed. Will had no clue what he was eating, but he ate until his plate was cleared and still wanted more.

Soon the chatter died away and the toasts began. Will ordered another cocktail and allowed his mind to stroll away. He watched bridesmaids and in-laws give teary speeches from what seemed like a great distance. The fine details of their emotions didn’t phase him. 

He thought of Molly’s house on Sugarloaf, the heat of the sun and the smell of sawgrass. The rustle of palm fronds in the ever-present breeze. Walking with Walter in the shallows, searching for hermit crabs—how many could they find before it stormed? He had his yellow beach pail, with it’s red shovel, and brought Will things he found while combing the sand. Small gifts, again and again.

Will tunneled on the image until he could recall precisely the sound of the plastic pail and shovel clucking together. The weight of the pail in his hand as he followed Wally down the shore, Wally rinsing off another shell, crouched in the water. He presented the shell to Will, crab claws poking out tentatively, and Will took it and patted his salt-matted hair. On and on until the predicted afternoon storm rolled in; they counted the collection of hermit crabs together as they returned them to the water for the record of that day.

With each number Will walked away from the reverie and back into the moment. The toasts were wrapping up with bubbly applause. The band took the stage again, and the hall swelled as everyone got up to dance.

Molly was content to rest in her chair. More people who knew her came by to say hello and introduce themselves to Will. They cooed when Molly said they were living in the Keys; most of them didn’t pay Will mind after he mentioned he was a diesel mechanic. None of them recognized his name or face, but their expressions shuttered over him. For most of them, the last time they had seen Molly was before her first husband had passed. Will could see their image of him just beyond their eyes until it rubbed behind his own. They had known him, they had liked him—they were sad.

It wasn’t long before he and Molly were separated. Some drama was occurring among the group of her acquaintances; one of the bridesmaids had been dumped by her own fiancee weeks before, remained committed to her friend’s wedding, showed up, and broken down. Molly, ever kind, left their table to join the support group. She gave him an apologetic look over the shoulder of her sobbing friend.

Guiltily relieved, Will abandoned his chair with the single-minded intent to escape the hall. The music had kicked up. The increased sound of stomping and laughing was fast nearing the edge of too much. The hall was hot with the movement of so many bodies—the flash of lights and cameras popped brightly in his vision. Everything chaffed. He was starting to sweat. When he reached the open hall doors, the thought of fresh air and quiet was a burst of relief—he ducked through them—and immediately ran into a large group of groomsmen guffawing over champagne.

“Graham!”

The groom was waving him into the circle, and Will found himself swallowed like ship in a whirlpool. Over the music and the exacerbated echo of the hall, the report of their voices pinged around his head, like a dozen records all skipping on different beats. Will plastered on a smile. He had figured he might end up in a situation like this: tired and tense, overstimulated, sucked in with a distasteful bunch and wrestling against his natural mimicry while still attempting an acceptable level of social engagement. 

Long ago, a therapist in an honest effort to help had recommended Will take up meditation. _Should’ve been tightrope walking_ , Will thought now, watching the groomsmen rile each other.

One of them clapped Will on the shoulder. “You should’ve _been_ here for the bachelor’s party, Graham. Johnnie Walker Blue and hotties _all night_. Ian had suites at the Hyatt ready so we could hangover the next day and catch the game, with a private breakfast buffet and _no wives_ to bitch us out, it was genius level shit. _You_ had good time, huh, Ian?”

“Gotta have a last run of fun before getting tied down, right?” The horde hooted in agreement.

“Honestly man, it’s a shocker you’d get chained at all.”

“Seriously. I told my old man that Ian from the OG swingers club was getting married and the bastard wouldn’t believe me. Then I called my sister, you remember Britt? She said I was bullshitting her, too. Everyone in my family thought you’re too much of a player to settle down, man.”

“Graham, you don’t even know. The tail this guy got back in high school? Sluts were all over him—“

“I need a drink,” said Will. He untangled himself while the men crooned, “Yeah, man,” and “Sure thing, bud.” He was almost free before the youngest of the group opened his mouth.

“Careful around that caterer, bro. Might come on to you, know what I’m saying?”

An utterance of laughter followed. The older men exchanged glances laced with knowing and alarm. The groom, self-proclaimed friend of the caterer in question, was clearly pretending he hadn’t heard anything at all.

_Fuck you_ , thought Will, walking away before it slipped.

He re-entered the reception hall, weaving between guests and around tables until he reached the bar at the far end of the room. Once he tagged a stool, he let out a long breath. The area was mostly deserted, but the noise was a throbbing pressure pounding in his head and pooling behind his eyes. He couldn’t let himself get completely overworked before the evening was over. Molly had enough to deal with already. His watch read close to nine. It was only a few more hours.

“Searching for an exit?”

Will looked up. Standing behind the bar was the man Will had seen from across the room at the ceremony. He had removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and donned an apron, and was at work garnishing oysters. Even as his hands moved, he gave Will a long glance.

“Have a bite,” he said.

“I’m not about to eat oysters at a wedding,” Will blurted. Immediately he bit his tongue and searched for an apology.

But the man was smiling at him.

“A drink, then.” He graciously passed Will a glass of ruby-colored wine. Defeated, Will took it and drank. It was full-bodied and sweet.

“Thank you,” he said. And then, “I’m sorry. Mister…?”

“Please, call me Hannibal.” He had an accent Will couldn’t place, and an air of serenity about him; he seemed untouched by the clamorous atmosphere that engulfed the room beyond his bar. 

Will extended his hand. “Will Graham.” Hannibal politely wiped his hands on a towel and took it. His palm was cool and smooth. “The groom mentioned you’re a friend of his,” Will went on.

“Oh, no,” said Hannibal pleasantly. “We’re not friends at all.”

“He, ah…seemed to think you were.”

“Good.”

Will eyed the man. He’d busied himself with arranging pre-poured glasses of wine. He seemed neither perturbed by his admission nor by Will’s hard stare—of the latter, Will realized that Hannibal was very aware, but diverted his own gaze almost coyly. “You’re not his friend, but you’re catering his wedding.”

“I volunteered.”

“That sounds like the kind of thing a friend would do.”

“Yet I maintain we aren’t friends. Perhaps I have an underlying motive.”

“Perhaps you should. I didn’t get the impression he was much good as a friend.”

When Hannibal looked up, they locked eyes again. Will felt the same jolt from earlier, a glissando of heat stroke his spine.

“My apologies,” said Hannibal. “I’ve kept you from the exit.”

“Not what I was looking for.”

“Not the exit, not any food. You have a drink. Could you be seeking something else?”

He might as well have reached across the bar and taken Will by the tie. “Better company.”

Hannibal’s lips quirked up. Will caught himself staring and averted his eyes. “It must have been a dismal discussion to have driven you away. What was the subject?”

“Marriage. Among other things.”

“I’m afraid you’ve found yourself at the worst possible venue if you wish to avoid conversations about marriage.”

“As I mentioned before,” said Will, “less the subject of conversation and more the company having it that warranted…”

“Better company.”

“A drink, at least.” Will sipped his wine. “Glad I could find both here.”

He looked out across the dance floor, although he could feel Hannibal looking at him. When he finally did turn his head toward the man, it was just as Hannibal turned away, a curve to his lips.

“Are you married?” Will asked boldly. “Or have you ever been?”

“I have never married. This means of course that all I shall contribute to our conversation will be based on second-hand knowledge and my own observation, rather than experience.”

“That’s fine with me,” said Will. “Everyone has some opinion on marriage, whether or not they’ve been married themselves.”

“You are married.” Hannibal looked pointedly at Will’s left hand.

“Engaged.”

“Very rare for a man to wear an engagement ring. Commitment must be important to you.”

“Isn’t it important to marriage?”

“She’s lucky to have gotten to you first.”

Will laughed, surprised. “It’s the other way around. I, uhm…I don’t know what she sees in me.”

Hannibal stared at him for seconds longer than was comfortable. His eyes were sharp and red. Will felt the hair on his neck stand up again and, strangely, his face heat at the same time.

“As I mentioned before,” Hannibal said at last, “it’s rare to see a man wearing an engagement ring. Were you high school sweethearts like our happy couple there?”

Will cleared his throat. “I’ve known her for about a year.”

“Some would claim one couldn’t possibly know another person well enough to marry them after only a year.”

“Some, but not you?”

“Not me. Nor you.” His voice was caramel. “We’re just alike.”

He could’t help himself. “Why aren’t you married?”

“I had never considered marrying. Would you care for more wine?”

“ _Had_ never.” Will passed his empty glass.

“Very good. Only recently, I realized…” Hannibal mulled while he poured. “As the expression goes, I had not found the right one.”

“What changed?”

Hannibal smiled. He had smiled so much at Will it was making Will grin too. He returned the now full glass and said, “Why are you engaged?”

Will got the feeling this meant it was his turn to pay up for his own question. _That’s alright_ , he thought; tit for tat. He took another swallow of wine.

“Molly’s a good person. Better than anyone I’ve known. Right before we met, things hadn’t been easy for either of us. Both of us wanted to…get away from all that. We have a good time together. A good life, I mean. She’s got a peaceful place now even after everything and I want to be good for her. I hope I am. I mean—I am. I try to be. I’m—I mean—Jesus Christ. Sorry. I’m…” He set his glass down, red-faced. “Sorry. I’m very tired."

“There’s no need to apologize for an honest answer,” Hannibal murmured.

“I think an apology is warranted if the answer…” Will made a vague gesture with his free hand. “Overshares. Especially with a stranger—”

“I want your honesty, Will.”

They stared at each other. As before, Will found himself unable to look away. It was his turn to speak, but when he opened his mouth, all his words left him.

“Hey, hotshot.”

It was Molly, looking rather careworn. Will stooped a bit for her to kiss his cheek. “I just came to check you weren’t in trouble,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“I’m alright.”

“The girls and I are going out for some air, do you wanna come with?”

“I’m alright,” Will said again. He automatically reached for his relinquished wine.

“Good idea.” She took up one of the pre-filled glasses, and in the movement spotted Hannibal. “Oh! Hi there.”

“Good evening. You must be Will’s fiancee.”

“Yeah, hi. I’m Molly. And you must be Dr. Lecter?”

_Dr. Lecter_ bowed his head. “We were just discussing you.”

“Well. Good things, I hope?”

“Undoubtedly. Will informed me of his engagement and described you as the best person in his acquaintance.” The corners of his mouth pulled back as he watched Molly pat Will’s arm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I understand you’re a friend of the bride?”

They began to chat; mind buzzing, Will observed raptly. The smallest alteration of Hannibal’s demeanor had caught his attention, but he couldn’t immediately discern exactly what, exactly, had changed. Hannibal watched Molly drink with an attention Will realized was as intense as his own as he watched Hannibal—but unlike Will, he seemed strangely detached, as though he were thinking of something else entirely. As though he were—

“Will you be staying the area for much longer?” Hannibal said.

“Uh-huh. Three full weeks.”

“Then I must invite you both to dine with me at my home in Baltimore.”

Molly was as surprised as Will. “That’s—well, that’s so kind of you. We’d love to. How about it?”

Will nodded.

“Excellent. I look forward to having you for dinner.”

Molly beamed. “Thanks so much, Doctor. Us too. I’ve gotta get back now, it was nice meeting you—I’ll leave it up to you and Will to work out a date.”

“Enjoy the wine,” said Hannibal.

Molly turned and kissed Will again. “Look at you, making friends,” she said, low enough that only he could hear.

“Um.”

“I’ll find you when we get back. Save some room for cake.” She squeezed his arm and left. Will watched her cross the floor and gather her friends with a hazy feeling, as though he had just been slowly jostled from a vivid dream.

“Congratulations,” said Hannibal, suddenly closer to him than before.

Will jumped. Hannibal had come around the bar to stand next to him. “I’m sorry?”

“Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“A rite of passage can ground us on the journey through life. Occasions such as this remind us what we race toward.” Hannibal turned his head toward the dance floor as he spoke. His profile was like a vase. When Will followed his gaze, he saw the bride and groom swaying in each other’s arms. “That will be you very soon.”

They watched the newlyweds swirl about the floor. Her satin dress shone in the changing light. She was laughing at something her new husband had said, the same seraphic smile from before. The music morphed into a slower tune, and her gaze grew warm. She rested her head against her husband’s chest and Will could hear the rush of blood and feel the beating there, at his own cheek.

“Can you imagine it?” said Hannibal, close to his ear.

“Yes,” said Will. “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: for homophobic/sexist language: a few men at the reception use degrading language and a sexual pejorative to talk about women, and laugh at the idea that an acquaintance might not be heterosexual; no homophobic slurs are used.
> 
> love triangle/mentions of infidelity: Will flirts with Hannibal despite being engaged to Molly; it’s suggested that the groom has been unfaithful to the bride. mild in this chapter, but considering the plot of the film deals with infidelity, if this makes you uncomfortable, I suggest finding something else to read.


End file.
